Epithets for Love and Misery
by Silence In Winter
Summary: Her ALS is slowly suffocating her. I mean, literally. She's screaming in silent pain. So I will take it and eat every last drop. [Jelsa, AU]
1. Part 1

**A/N: Be forewarned, there is gore, strong language, and suggestive themes.**

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Epithets for Love and Misery

Part One

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When you love me, your lips should be closed. Unless we are kissing. Then I want to go deep, deep inside of who you are. And that's why she was so perfect. Her actions were never vapid and hollow, but overflowing with the bounty of her affections for me.

She would always give me her last french fry. She would watch football with me, even though she didn't know what the hell was going on. She would put my towel in the dryer a few minutes before I got out of the shower. She would kiss me like a French girl before I went to work.

Of course we would say, 'I love you,' but the magic was in the pieces you didn't have to say. The soft touch of her hand, a smile of complete contentment, sleeping beside each other every night.

What is the epithet for your love?

"I'm not taking her home, doc."

"You don't understand, Mr. Overland. She isn't getting better, you should take her home so that she can spend her last days with family and friends. You can discuss the rest with the nurses."

He turned to leave, but I grabbed his weak little arm and jerked him around to face me. "That's not good enough!" I screamed. "You have to help her! You're a doctor for godsake!"

"Didn't you hear me? There is nothing I can do, Mr. Overland!" When my grip relaxed he yanked his arm away. "She is dying and the most loving thing you can do for her is to let her do so as peacefully as she can!"

"Stephen Hawking has the same fucking disease and he has been around since the age of the dinosaurs!"

"Hawking is an exception, not an example of ALS, Mr. Overland. I will speak to the nurses personally about transferring her bipap machine but you have to understand that is nothing more we can do for her. Furthermore, we have other patients who need her bed." From his pocket he pulled a prescription pad and began writing. "And for you, Mr. Overland, this will help you cope with the adjustments that are to come." He ripped it off and handed it to me.

 _Zoloft, 50 mg, once per day, for depression, anxiety_

I chewed my lip, wondering if I gave him an uppercut if his toupe would fly off to reveal his sweaty bald spot. Instead, I crumpled the prescription in my fist and threw it at him. Turning on my heel, I marched back to room 507. _Elsa Overland_ was written in purple on the white board.

"I'm sorry, I'm back." I said, scratching the back of my head. "I just wanted to talk to the doctor. He said—he said we can go home. Which is good. It's really good." I turned around to face her, hoping my slumped posture and wry smile wouldn't give me away, but I could hear her in my head. She always knew when I wasn't being truthful.

" _Jack, you're lies are as red as your hands. You_ totally _got me a Chrismas present. But it's okay, because I got you one too._ "

And then we would kiss in front of the winking lights of the tree. She didn't say things like that anymore. She didn't say anything like anything anymore.

I walk across the room and sit in one of the chairs beside her bed. Her sky-bue eyes follow me as I move. It's the only part of her that she still has the muscle to control. Every other piece of the woman I love is dead. Well, not technically dead, just... irrevocably immobilized.

So to me, dead. She won't offer me her french fries anymore because she eats through a feeding tube. She doesn't bother about my towels because every day I give her a sponge bath. I can't even kiss her lips because the bipap machine is what's keeping her alive. On the bright side, she will watch whatever I want to watch.

I guess that's not a silver lining so much as a sick, satirical jab at male remote hogs.

I run my fingers through my brunette hair, palm resting on my forehead. With my other hand, I take hers. It's as limp, but still warm. I push my thumb into her palm and begin to rub. Before she stopped talking she used to tell me it felt good.

What makes me feel good? I can't even remember. A distant memory of Elsa laughing at one of my dad-worthy jokes passes through the back of my mind.

I like to play this game where I try to pinpoint the moment the ALS began to rot her brain. No, it doesn't really make me feel good, but when I'm digging my grave of pity I might as well go for bedrock.

The inevitable place to start is our wedding day. It begins with Anna twirling down the Victorian halls of our venue, white silk bows and giant vases of blue and white hydrangea tastefully arranged. She is wearing the fresh teal bridesmaid dress that matches the color of my tie and every other goddamned thing in the wedding. My hands are sweaty, but Anna grabs them and pushes her face so close to me I can smell the flavor of her gum.

"Guess what?" Anna whispers.

"Uh, what?"

She giggles. "Elsa is so nervous, and so excited, and so beautiful! Her hands were trembling so much she kept smearing her eyeliner. I had to do it for her."

It could have been nerves, Jack knew, but he recalled that after their wedding she seldom wore eyeliner, even on special occasions.

Since her diagnosis every clumsy moment she ever had became subject to scrutiny. On the third date,(you know, the BIG third date) I took her and my favorite moscato star gazing. She was holding her glass of wine, blushing as she smiled awkwardly at me. Then her glass just slipped out of her hand and shattered against the edge of the tailgate. We laughed it off and after getting mildly drunk on wine and heady lust we made love for the first time under the stars. Was that dumb luck or the first sign of neuromuscular atrophy?

 _Jack, can you help me?_

Another memory rising like bubbles to the surface.

 _I just can't get it._ She was referring to the button on her jeans. She couldn't fasten it, so I placed my hands on her hips and pulled her so that I could feel every inch of her backside against my pelvis. I pressed my bare chest against her back and nestled my head into the crook of her neck, exhaling on her skin so I could see the goosebumps appear. Hooking my fingers into the pockets of her jeans, I slid them down to reveal her pink silk panties. She briefly protested about needing to go to work before I lifted her clean off of her feet and carried her back to bed with me.

Was then that it started?

The ugliest one began three years ago on Thanksgiving. Maybe it was ugly because it was when she could no longer hide it.

Elsa had her family in town. She and Anna were wearing matching cable knit sweaters the latter had made. They were pretty hideous but Elsa had been thrilled by Anna's thoughtfulness. Hiccup and Astrid were there and Bunnymund had flown all the way from Australia to see what all of the hullabaloo was about. Everyone had had a little spiked eggnog and we were in a pretty heated game of Settlers of Catan when it happened. Yes, we are kind of nerdy.

Kristoff had said something clever and we were all laughing at his sarcastic capabilities. Then she wanted to trade bricks. But she didn't say bricks. She said icks. And then she tried again. Icks. Icks, icks, icks. Her stunnng blue eyes were wide. She touched her lips with her thin fingers, pushed her chair back, and ran to the bathroom.

I followed her immediately, shoving my foot into the threshold so she couldn't lock me out. "Wait, Elsa,"

"Go away," Her voice was fractured with the threat of tears. "I need to be alone."

"You know I'm not going to."

"I need to go to the bathroom.

"No you don't."

"Ja—Ja—" I feel her putting pressure on the door. I'm stronger than her and gave it one hard push so that I can slip through. She gasps and is about to try to say my name again but I grab her around the waist and pull her to me, holding her squirming body firmly.

"Elsa, Elsa, shh, shh, it's okay." And then she starts sobbing. These aren't the quiet tears of someone who is in pain, she is crying with her mouth open, her nose and eyes running and her body is heaving. She's frightened.

It takes her at least five minutes of wailing before it winds down to whimpering. Slipping my hand under her chin, I tilt her face up so I can see her. Hair is plastered to her skin by dried tears and snot, her mascara has run all over cheeks, and her foundation is blotchy. Tenderly, I kiss her trembling lips, lingering until I feel her body relax.

When she pulls away, I kiss her forehead and then let mine touch hers.

"I can't say that word." She whispers, her voice a little thicker than I am used to.

"What word?" I ask stupidly. "Oh—Oh—right. Look, you had a little bit to drink tonight, that's all. You'll go to sleep, and then feel better tomorrow."

When our eyes meet, I can tell she knows I am not lying but the vacant look she has tells me that she doesn't believe me either. Nodding, she heads upstairs to bed, wordlessly passing Anna in the hall who has been standing outside the door for an unknown amount of time. She tries to follow her sister but I touch Anna's shoulder.

"Don't, just don't." I say. Anna scrunches her face at me and looks like she is about to protest, but I narrow my eyes to her. We got back to the others at the table and I make a lame excuse about Elsa feeling sick. Everyone is a good sport and offers genuine condolences. I tell them where to find the rest of the booze before excusing myself upstairs.

Elsa, my lovely wife, is slipping into her white silk night shift. Wordlessly she removes the faux pillows from the bed and crawls in under the comforter. Stripping down to my boxers, I join her, pulling her close to me so she sleeps in my arms.

Perhaps the most difficult part of this memory is the next morning, as I kiss her hair and she rolls over so that her face is buried in my neck.

"Icks." She says. "Icks."

The peaks of her heart increase in frequency, the beeps closer together. "Oh, sorry." I say as I release her hand. Slowly her heart returns to normal.

I guess I was hurting her. Accidentally, of course. Since she can't communicate I have no way of knowing if I'm hurting her, helping her, anything.

"It's really good." I repeat. "It's really good that we are... going home." To die. To die because your muscles don't work and soon your lungs will become too weak for even the bipap machine to be of any help eliminating the carbon dioxide and you will painfully suffocate. How lucky I am to watch you die.

* * *

I'm filling out her discharge paperwork, albeit reluctantly. Because we are borrowing medical equipment there are a lot of forms to fill and a lot of big checks to sign. Elsa's eyes have been closed for a half an hour and her heart rate as well as body temperature are down, so I assume she is taking a nap.

Even with the monolithic machine obscuring her face, she is beautiful to me. I can't see much of her face, but my memory is good. If I close my eyes I can feel the line of her high cheekbones and see the way her eyes smile when I say something cute. It's been over a year since I have heard her voice but the ferocity that attracted me to her is still the strongest thing about her.

I think.

"She's so pretty." I look up to see her for the first time. She's standing at the foot of Elsa's bed, a hand on her hip. "It's a shame she's dying." When she looks at me, her eyes are the color of blood, her skin the pale color of death.

"What the—who the hell let you in here?" I ask. She just stares with a half-open mouth as though my question is stupid. But then she smiles.

"You should leave." I say.

"So soon?" She brushes her long colorless bangs out of her eyes. "I've been waiting to meet you for so long, Mr. Overland. Or should I say Jack?"

"I said you should go."

She takes a step towards me. "Where? Where do you want me to go?"

"I—"

"I've been here so long! I only want to help her!" She points a long finger at Elsa.

"What?" I gasp.

At this point, a nurse enters the room. "Hello, Jack!" She says, a big smile on her face. "How is that discharge paperwork coming?"

Ohh, uhm—"

"I'm just here to check on your wife's vitals." Still smiling she walks around the bed and right through the girl. I feel as though I am going to vomit. "Are you alright, Mr. Overland?"

"I—I—Need air." Dropping the clipboard, I run. And run and run and run. I hit the other side of the hospital. Slamming into the window and remembering I'm on the fifth floor. My breathing is heavy and erratic and I'm wondering if these big windows open.

No, don't think that way. I just probably need that Zoloft. ...Right?

"You can save her."

I whirl around and there she is, shoeless and staring at her own bare feet instead of me. "You can save her." She repeats.

"You're a fucking figment of my imagination." I say, shaking. "You—"

She grabs my wrist, her grip like stone as her sharp nails dig into my flesh. "Is this a figment of your imagination?" She hisses. "You're pretty creative, then, Jack."

I try to free my hand from her but I can't. "Let go—"

"No!" She pulls me close and speaks so she is spitting into my ear. "Now listen. You have the chance to take it all away and make her like new again. If you could do that would you?"

"Yes," I gasp, astonished by her strength. "Yes, of course I would."

"Then listen because we only have moments before that stupid doctor comes back and you will look pretty asinine sitting like this when they can't see me."

"How do you—"

"Because I can smell him!" She snaps. "Now listen, you have to leave her. You have to come, with me and I will show you how to eat the pain so she doesn't have to. You would do that, right? Eat all of the pain and hurt so she has none. And that's it. Then she will live."

"Go with you? Leave her? I—I—That's insane—you—how can I trust you? To make her better?"

She tosses her head to flip her hair out of her eyes. "Look, you can trust the fuck up doctors and watch her die in your bed at home, or you can leave your humanity and see her live."

In her red eyes I see a hunger, but it doesn't feel like Elsa is the object of her desire. This doesn't feel like a means to an end because I feel like I am the end.

"I'm not even real to you, so what do you lose if you say yes? Since I'm just a figment, a nothing and a nobody." She lets go of my wrist.

"Mr. Overland?" I look up to see Elsa's doctor. "Why are you on the floor?"

"Oh!" I stand up quickly. "No reason, I just needed to take a walk. I, uh, slipped." He looks at me skeptically, but keeps walking. Once he has rounded the corner, I look at my wrist. There are five little red cuts where her nails broke my skin.

"Anna, you have to come down here."

"What, why?"

"You have to come. Right now, Anna." I'm rolling a hospital pen in my sweaty hands.

"Jack, I'm at work. I thought Elsa was stable. Oh my God, is she—"

"No, no!" I say quickly, walking a little faster in a figure eight outside of Elsa's room. I don't want her to hear. "She's stable. It's just—It's just—" The words are stuck like poison in my throat. They aren't what is correct, but they are what I need to say. "I need you to take Elsa home."

"What? Why? That's absurd, you're her husband."

I bite my lip and ball my fist around the pen. "Not anymore."

There is a long pause on the other end. "Wow, Jack, what?"

The world feels like it's spinning. I close my eyes, press my forehead to the wall and inhale. "You heard me, Anna. Not anymore. I'm leaving her. I can't take it. It's over."

"Jack, no—"

"Just come fucking get her, Anna! She's getting discharged in an hour." I hang up the phone and throw it as hard as I can. There is a muffled crack as the screen shatters upon impact with the tile floor. I turn and run back to room 507, back to Elsa. I can feel my cheeks wet with hot tears I scarcely knew I was crying.

Her eyes are open and they flit towards me as I enter the room.

 _What's wrong Jack?_

She would have asked that. She would have asked that if she wasn't lying on the bed rotting away like a corpse.

"Elsa," I say as I practically jump on top of jer . "I love you."

Roughly I unfasten the bipap from her face and pull it off. Immediately her heart rate begins to spike. Grabbing her face in my hands, I kiss her with greed. Her lips are softer than I remember and so incredibly warm. She tastes like plastic but all I care about is that I feel her and she feels me. When I break away, I hover inches from her face. Her eyes rapidly dart back and forth, confused and scared.

I take the bipap mask and fix it back on her face just as several nurses rush into the room. They start yelling at me but I'm already leaving. The moment I step through the threshold of the door, a chilly hand grabs my arm. I turn to see her, smiling wide, eyes alight with red victory. Swiftly, she stands on her tiptoes and kisses me, covering Elsa's taste. I don't open my mouth, but I do hit the floor, everything fading in a ripple of darkness.

The world is coming back in fuzzy pieces. Distantly, I hear voices. Moaning, I roll to my side and begin to sit up, finding that I am just where I last remember, right outside of Elsa's room. I look at my hands and flex them. Everything still seems to work just fine. I take a quick glance around and notice that outside it's completely dark. I was out for quite awhile.

"Please, please, take it easy." The voice I hear is Anna. So she made it after all.

I step into the crowded room. There is a herd of doctors and nurses as well as Anna, Kristoff, and Elsa's parents. She is propped up in bed, supporting her own head and holding a glass of water in her hands. She's back.

"Elsa! Excuse me," I reach to touch the nearest doctor on the shoulder but my hand slices through him like fog. "Wh-What!" He steps back, walkingcleanly through me. I have a clear view of Elsa now, who looks from Anna to her mother, completely passing over me like I don't exist.

"Elsa," On my hands and knees I crawl towards her bed. She is speaking and it's clear, beautiful, and perfect. Her grasp on the glass is strong and confidant as she lifts it to her mouth and takes a drinks.

"I don't understand." Elsa says. "He said he was leaving? Is he... coming back?" Elsa touches her lips and my heart skips a beat because I know the memory that is present.

"Oh Elsa, I'm sorry." Anna says, sitting on the foot of Elsa's bed. "He's awful though, I mean, this is a miracle! And he missed it!"

"I'm right here," I grumble.

"But no one gives a flying fuck."

I look over my shoulder. She's here again, smiling in that way that makes two small fangs just barely visible over her bottom lip. "I knew you for years, Jack. But you never knew me."

My hands are trembling. She's standing infront of me, smiling through the strands of her shabby white hair.

"What did you do?" I stammer.

"Do? I didn't do anything. You did. You saved her , Jack! Now she's alive and a medical silver spoon. What a prize of a wife you have. And look,"

She wraps her cold fingers around Elsa's bare neck. Elsa doesn't even seem to notice, still talking to Anna about me. When the girl pulls her hand away, it's dripping with fresh blood. She begins licking it.

Standing, I put my arms on her shoulders and shove her as hard as I can into the wall.

"You bitch! Get off of her! Elsa," I sit on her bed and put my hand over hers. "Are you okay?" Still, Elsa doesn't seem to notice me. She rubs the place that the girl touched her, but there is no wound, broken skin, or even a bruise. It's as though nothing happened.

"She can't see you, idiot." The girl says as she stands. "For years I ate your pain and you never even knew."

"You? Me? You—you did that to me?" It's horrifying to hear.

She nodded. "Ever feel like someone touched you when nothing was there? That was probably one of us feeding. Here," Before I can move, she takes her bloody hand touches my cheek, smearing it across my face and over my lips. The moment the thick coppery smell hits my nostrils I feel a deep ache so desperate I double over and gasp.

"Shh, it's okay." She strokes the back of my neck and offers her bloody hand to me.

"No!" I shove her away. "I don't want it." My teeth are clenched as I speak. She shrugs indifferently and proceeds to lick the rest off of her hand.

"Suit yourself. You'll get hungry enough soon. Oh, but you might want to look in the mirror."

"Why?"

"Just do it."

I look back at Elsa. She is faintly smiling, but her eyelids are heavy. Her hands are touching her hair for the first time what seems like forever. When her sister says something funny, she can open her mouth and laugh. When Kristoff says something sarcastic, she can offer a sassy comeback. This is the woman that I married. I got her back.

Slipping off of the bed, I walk to the bathroom connected to Elsa's room. The person I see in the mirror is a stranger.

The blood she smeared on my face is made bold by the pale tone of my skin. All trace of color has faded from my hair, leaving it a stark white. My eyes, no longer brown, are the color of ice. The cadence of my heart quickens and my breathing feels ast and painful. I can't stop it.

Another wave of pain hits my stomach. I grab the edge of the sink to keep from falling on the floor. My vision begins to blur and a splitting pain threatens to crack my skull wide open.

"H-Help me," I whisper. "E-Elsa..."

Fingers run softly through my hair before they grab the roots and roughly pull my head back. Once again a hand is clapped over my face, smothered in sweet smelling blood. I inhale and for a moment there is complete clarity. The pain is gone, my vision focuses, and I feel alive.

I grab her hand and begin lasciviously licking the blood from it until it's clean. Breathing deeply, I feel a little better. My stomach still rumbles for more, but the pain in my head has stopped and my vision is normal. I think of the people in the other room and how much they must be suffering, of who must be suffering the most.

She lets go of my hair. "Now look."

Cautiously, I grip the edge of the sink again, using it to steady myself as I rise. I see in the mirror that my left eye has turned from a pale blue to the same blood red as hers.

"No," I shake my head. "No, no, this can't be." I turn on her, grabbing her by the wrists and and pinning her against the wall. She doesn't struggle. "What did you do to me, you witch?"

"Stop spitting on me." She hisses. "I saved your wife."

"You did something to me! To _me_!"

"You were willing."

"No! I—I didn't know. What is this? What are you? What am—" I couldn't bring myself to finish the sentence. It would be to acknowledge my reality that I was some kind of invisible monster, and that was too painful.

One of the corners of her mouth raised in a satisfied smirk. "Really? Really!? What did you think I meant by eating her pain? By giving your humanity? Tsk, tsk. Haven't you ever heard of a sin eater?"

"No. Is that what you are?"

She nodded. "You were so _delicious_ with all of that suffering. You have never been so miserable in your life."

"That's impossible. Why could I see you. And... and not them?"

"Children cry in the night, thrash in bed, and say there is a monster. Under the bed, in the closet, behind the curtains. Mommy and Daddy can't see it because they aren't choking on their fear." She lowers her voice to a whisper. "But that's us. You can only see us at the pivotal moment of that detrimental emotion, when you can so easily trade you the hell of your reality for relief. And you did just that, Jack."

I squeeze my eyes shut. I can still hear Elsa distantly talking in the background to her family. They're laughing about something. It's in there that I belong, my arm proudly around her shoulders because I am the one that made her laugh.

Except I'm not.

I drop this... this sin eater and walk slowly to the next room. Anna shushed the doctors out of the room so they could have privacy. She's holding Elsa's hand, happy tears running down her plump cheeks. Kristoff is dozing with his mastiff, Sven, in his lap. Elsa lifts a hand and touches Anna's shoulder. They think they are alone.

"Tell him I'm sorry, Anna."

"No," I say into her ear through gritted teeth. "Don't you ever apologize."

"I was such a burden to him."

"Stop it. Please."

"And now he's gone because of it..."

I feel a tear run down my own cheek. "This isn't how it was supposed to be, Elsa!" I pound my fist into the mattress but she doesn't notice. "It's not. I love you."

Anna cradles her sister's head against her chest. "The people who matter are here, Elsa. And that's what's important."

I'm here. I'm here. I'm here, Elsa. I'm here.

* * *

She was there for another week before they discharged her. They wanted to make sure she didn't relapse. And she didn't. The sin eater kept her promise. I still see her from time to time. We both occupy the hospital, suckering the pain of widows, orphans, and the deprived. When Elsa comes I can see her too. She visits fairly regularly.

But not to visit me. As the first person to fully recover from ALS she's a scientific gold mine.

What they don't know is that some things cannot be explained by atoms, measurements, and algorithms. Some things you just don't see. Like love.

But I still see her. She usually comes on Tuesdays around 3 o'clock, often running about ten minutes late, but I'm on time for her appointments. These days she brings her daughter too. She's almost as gorgeous as her mother. Almost.

* * *

 **A/N: SIDE-PROJECT! :D Two part series that I thought of while driving the other day. Pretty dark but I dunno. the other part is already written, just needs to be proof read and then I will post it, but I am trying to get out the next chapter of The Wings as well. Anyway, thanks for reading and please let me know what you think! -Kay**


	2. Fin

Epithets for Love and Misery

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Fin

* * *

It has to be around midnight. Up and down the halls the janitor pushes the floor polishing machine, the drone of his monotonous life. I'm nibbling my chipped thumbnail as I walk past him unseen. This is a bad time to get hungry; most everyone who has time to mourn or feel pain is asleep or knee deep in pain killers.

No sightings of Her for awhile. It makes me antsy. She's always sticking her nose into some kind of shit.

And then I hear it.

"She's coding! She's coding!"

The ammonia smell of death is like fresh bread to me. I take my time to meander down the hall because grief isn't going anywhere fast. Lying in the bed is an old woman with gnarled and spotty hands. Her salt-and-pepper hair is sweaty and frizzled, cut short around her face. A tube is down her throat and the monitors beside her bed shriek rapidly for help. Standing beside her are two dark men and a woman with sweet blonde hair, all of them holding each other. The woman is crying and her red, puffy face tells me she has been doing so for some time now.

I look at the old woman on the bed. She's beyond the point of feeling pain, so the sobbing girl is the one that I go for. Lightly, I touch her exposed forearm. She must have felt my chill because she pulls away, but when I turn my hand over, I have blood.

The machine beeps one solid note. "Time of death..." One of the doctors announces. I bring my hand to my face and greedily rub it across my lips and tongue, savoring the flavor. It leaves hot stains on my chin.

The woman is wailing now. I sweep my hand across her lovely cheek to get more. Her taste makes me bold. One of the men pulls her into his arms. Shrugging, I turn around, my hand still wet and red.

She's standing there, beside the empty body of the old woman, looking down on her. Her hair platinum blonde hair is braided just as it was when I first met her. Her lovely lips are parted as though she is about to say something important. Tears rim her chilly blue eyes. I know this look on her face. It's fear.

"Elsa," I say her name, knowing she can't hear me. But then she looks up and her wide eyes meet mine. The cold shock that rushes my blood is almost paralytic.

Her hands fly to cover her mouth. "Oh my God! J-Jack...?"

My jaw drops and I run to be close to her. She moves away from me, uncertainty in her eyes.

"You can see me?" I ask. Before she can say anything, I take her hands in mine, put my thumbs against her palms. She's shaking, she looks as though she has seen a ghost. "It's me. It's Jack."

She shakes her head from side to side. "No, no, it can't be. This can't—"

"No it is!" I assure her. "I'm here. I'm here, Elsa." I touch her hair, leaving a bloodstain. She trembles.

"Jack, why am I here?"

"What?"

Elsa pushes me away gently and points to the people three people who are looking at the woman's body. "Those—thosed are my children."

"Mom," The woman takes the cold hand of the old woman on the bed, squeezing it.

Elsa turns to me. I can see her eyes hold my red ones for a brief second before they fall to the blood smeared on my face. I lift my hand to touch her but she moves away again.

"You left. " Once more, her eyes harshly dissect the pieces of me she doesn't recognize. "...For this?"

"No," I say firmly, grabbing her elbow but she pulls away again. "I didn't, I promise! I was here the whole time. ...Elsa?"

Her opacity has begun to fade. She's begun to move on. Which is something you can only do... if you have humanity in your soul.

"No, no, no!" I grab her and pull her to me. "Elsa, please stay, please? Please!?" It's a pathetic whimper. I know I sound like a child throwing a tantrum, but for her I would do anything. I don't care what she thinks, I've existed so long without her I forgot to watch the years pass; forgot that there would be a day when she would die and I would not.

"I don't know how. It's warm over there. Jack, I—" I don't let her say another word. With one hand I pull her against my cold body. With the other hand I snarl her lovely hair around my fingers, holding her as I cover her lips with mine, drinking from her with mad desperation

And I feel her blossoming against my kiss with an open mouth, just as hungry as I. Her hands are grabbing me, reaching under my shirt to touch and feel the pieces of me that she desperately missed.

This is my wife.

And then she is gone, nothing but a wispy memory of warm lips and sweet smiles.

It didn't make a difference.

I still watched her die.

* * *

 **A/N: Aaaaand... the end of my little experiment. Maybe one day if I get the gusto I will expand on this concept. Looking back I think I added too much info on the Sin Eater (aka Her) than was pertinent to this short. Also, she was not an OC but loosely based on Namine from Kingdom Hearts, so technically a Disney character.**

 **Also, I shared this with someone in my life who suggested the alternate title, Jack: Fucked For All Eternity. Gave me a good chuckle.**

 **Hope you guys enjoyed reading, please let me know what you thought in a review. :3 -Kay**


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